Half Not
by BeastRage the Hunter
Summary: Wake up in a cartoon? Possible Ectoplasm allergy? Threat of Mary Sue-dom? Canon changes? This girl's facing all of that and more. But one thing Jenny knows, is that nothing will ever be the same again. OC-centric
1. Welcome to your Reality I

A/N: Yay! More writing! I'm now attempting to write a half-decent "fangirl in the fandom" fanfic, with a more realistic twist. Hopefully. From that, there will be:

-No OC turn into halfa. No. Just no.

-No Clockwork introduce OC. CW just might not like the problems in store from this...*rubs hands and laughs evilly*

-No OC relationship with canon characters. By that, I mean no Vlad/OC, Danny/OC, or Clockwork/OC since that's what everyone seems to be concerned about. No slash either. I don't write that.

-No "Yippee, I'm friends with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. Fourth to those three! Friends forever!" There will be OC interaction with them, but they won't welcome her right into their circle of friendship and trust. I'm actually leaning more towards a possible OC and Valerie (or OC and Jazz. Maybe.) friendship, but if that seems too far-fetched, please tell me.

-Yes, there will be canon changes. This is a "fangirl in the fandom" story, after all. Canon changes seem to be the definition for the majority of fanfiction.

Well, here I go. Please tell me if you like my OC or not. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>I wait and listen.<p>

"Daniel, stop being so stubborn!" "Get away from me, fruit loop!" Splashing noises, of what is probably Danny struggling to get from the millionaire next to him. "If you don't let me help you, little badger, then you won't be able to help your friends. And we don't want that, do we?" A pause, in which Danny sighs reluctantly. "Fine. But don't think I'm not watching you, fruit loop." Vlad's voice takes on an amused tone. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

I look down at the water surrounding my little island. Moving into it would cause a splash. Noise. There are too many tunnels I could take or they could take, to chase or run. That was probably the purpose the two halfas had fled down in here, to avoid being cornered or taken by surprise.

I creep forward, stepping stone by stepping stone, making no noise as I do so. Until I'm close enough to see the pair. Danny lays in the water, green blood dripping from his hastily wrapped shoulder to further muddy his surroundings. Vlad stands next to him, having just gotten up from helping Danny with his injury. Both are in their ghost forms, and both have their backs turned to me.

"Do you think she's gone? Jamie?" Danny's hope is obvious and clear in his glowing green eyes. Only to have his hopes crushed by Vlad, his own enemy (not too rare of an occurrence, to think about it). "Whatever that thing is, it isn't a 'she' anymore. Or even human. There is no possibility that it would give up the hunt." The older halfa's back suddenly straightens. "In fact, I bet it's here right now."

I step into the water, clearly announcing my arrival. No use hiding anymore. "You would be right about that." They whirl towards me, ready to take on any threat. Even a threat they can't fight and are helpless against.

"Jamie, back off!" Danny stands up, fists full of glowing green energy. "You don't have to kill us."

"You're right, I don't." My voice darkens. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to."

"Why? You were my friend." He begs for an answer, ghost eyes searching for one in my eyes. "Creatures like that don't need a reason to kill." Danny turns on Vlad, angry in every sense of the word. "And you would know about that, wouldn't you, Vlad?" "Daniel, are you insane? It just clearly stated that it wants to kill us and you're angry at _me?_" Vlad looks incredulous, going so far to dramatically put a hand on his chest for effect.

"Not that I would mind myself some answers." He quickly adds. Vlad Plasmius can't let anyone get the better of him, after all.

I smile. I don't know how cold this smile is, but I hope it's harsh enough to get my point across. "Of course you wouldn't. _Hybrids._" I spit the word out like it's poison on my tongue, and like poison, it does its job.

Red and green eyes stare in shock for a minute. Plasmius recovers first and Phantom right after, but the moment was there. "Hybrids? What makes you say that?" Delaying tactics. They already know I know something but can't say anything in case I don't really know something.

Or something like that. I'm no Clockwork.

"Everything. _Masters. Fenton." _Nothing can more damaging than the truth at the wrong moment. In this wrong moment, I destroy the halfas' hopes of escaping into their human forms until they can figure how to counter me. Now I reveal I know _everything, everything _that matters, and I have just proved I can hunt them down any time I wish.

Crackling ectoplasmic energy dies down to a whimper. This energy is useless against me, after all. No way to escape.

Except Danny will still try. They both will. It's this stubbornness that has gotten them so far. I admire it, in a way only an outsider can.

I bring what is in my hands into view. Eyes widen again in shock. "How?" I don't know if it's Danny or Vlad that whispers this, but I don't really care.

I smile again. "I'm a fan."

* * *

><p>I bet you didn't really understand any of that, now did you? What? You're complaining that I interrupted, and at a cliffhanger at that. Don't give me that. This is my story and I can tell it however I want.<p>

But you might be right about how it's hard to understand exactly what's going on. Or how it all happened in the first place. We call that "_In medias res", _or starting in the middle of the action. But now you want more of the story? Ha, you've fallen into my trap, reader. Watch me cackle evilly. Mwahaha.

But seriously, you really want this story to get started? Really started this time? Well, like all great things, it started with an accident. The ghost portal wouldn't turn on, despite all his parents tried to do. So Danny, along with his fri-

What, you're saying you already know this story? If so, you can listen to it again. Stop complaining, I'm the writer here, not you. You threaten to stop reading my story and see how I care.

Really.

...

Fine, I'll do it your way. But if you complain the entire time, I'm trashing this thing and going home. I'm under no obligation to finish this.

Like I said, it started with an accident. But when I truly started becoming aware of how much of a mess I was in (partially, kinda, maybe), that began with something else.

A name.

* * *

><p>"Jenny!"<p>

I woke up with a gasp, eyes staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

Purple with gold stars splattered all over it. If done with a more skilled hand, perhaps it would have looked nice, but to me it just looked _wrong. _Like everything else did. "Jenny, time to get up!" A stranger called for me, with a name that isn't mine. "You don't want to be late, do you? This is your first day back!"

Oh yes, that. School today. Sighing, I got up out of bed, keeping my eyes focused on the ceiling. I didn't want to deal with _it _just yet. Or ever, but there's not much I could do about that. I barely managed not to kill myself tripping, but I still refused to look down to focus more on my feet.

I stumbled into the bathroom. Where I faced _it _in the mirror.

No matter how many times I saw _it, it _still managed to surprise every time. I examined the mirror, reflection and all. A perfectly normal face, one sprinkled lightly with freckles across the nose. A face that probably looked a little cute, framed by curls, if I cared to admit it. My hand ran through curly brown hair, smooth and silky from a lifetime of too many hair products. Blue-green eyes stared back from the reflection, over-sized to compete for every bit attention a person could muster.

Nothing wrong with this face. Except for one thing. It wasn't mine.

When I walked down the stairs, I felt dirty. Even after taking a shower. A kind of metaphysical dirt or guilt, if I cared to think about this feeling. Which I didn't.

A man sat at the table, face buried in a newspaper. A little girl sat next to the man, feet kicking back and forth. A woman, who's the stranger that called me down, turned to me, smiling with breakfast plate in hand. A breakfast plate with sunny-side eggs and bacon on top.

The perfect picture of family life. But it wasn't mine. Like these clothes weren't mine, or even this body I'm wearing wasn't mine. Everything was wrong and I felt like I'm only one that knew that.

Well, not quite. The woman's perfect smile began to slip, sensing perhaps some of the dark cloud surrounding my thoughts. Before it disappeared entirely, she made a valiant effort, saying, "Well, do you want some?" Behind those eyes, she begged me to say yes.

I considered it. In my old life (don't think about that, don't think about that), I never ate breakfast. Never was hungry enough to. But clearly, 'Jenny' ate breakfast everyday and since today's 'Jenny's' first day back to school, her mom decided to make an effort to cook her breakfast. That's what I came up with, anyway.

It would make no logical sense for a mother to make her teenage daughter breakfast every day. That would be silly.

I shrugged. "Sure," and took the plate from 'Mom'. Her body let out an unconscious sigh of relief, I can tell by the way she almost seemed to deflate. I couldn't blame her. It's been hard for them, dealing with New Jenny, Jenny after the Accident. But I couldn't muster much sympathy for them, being how it's _me _trapped in someone else's body.

I dug in and choked the food down. Pretty fast, really. I've always been a fast eater. Judging by the weird half-glances 'Dad' kept giving from behind his paper, Jenny was a slow eater instead. Just one of many differences, _wrongs_, I've committed after the Accident (which I still don't know what happened).

They didn't say anything, only gave me sad, pitying looks until I wanted to hit them. The medical explanation for why Jenny isn't Jenny anymore was too much brain damage. Never mind that there wasn't a sign of scar tissue on said organ, never mind that's not how identity loss _works. _All of the adults needed a reasonable answer for why Jenny was a different person entirely, so they plopped down with that.

The little girl, Jenny's sister, was the only one who really seemed to get the truth.

_A girl walked into the room. Can't be more than five, tops. Brown curls bounced with every moment of her body. They seemed familiar for some reason. The curls, I mean. "Sara, come see your sister. She's finally well again!" Dark blue eyes looked into mine, before looking away._

_The girl, Sara, solemnly shook her head. "That's not my sister."_

Truer words never spoken. I wasn't her sister. Her sister was dead, most likely, since I didn't sense any activity in this head other than mine. Just me. And I'm sorry about it.

Speaking of the little girl, I looked up from my breakfast to see her staring at me. Just like her dad. But unlike 'Dad', she doesn't look away, ashamed of getting caught. Instead she _glared_ into my eyes. "Jenny doesn't eat like that. You're not Jenny." 'Dad' sighed. "Sara, I'd thought we went over this. Your sister isn't quite the same anymore." "Still not Jenny," She muttered, before turning back to her coloring book.

I thought about saying something about that, but decided not to. I had things to do.

Right now, I had to go to school. I grabbed my nearby backpack (purple with more gold? Seriously?) and turned to leave. Only to find 'Mom' in my way. Her arms were spread out to receive something, maybe a hug. Normally, I was all for hugs, but not from strangers. I pushed past without even a look back.

I paused when she called out to me, almost desperately. "I can give you a ride to school today." "Nah, that's fine. I can find the bus stop." And with that, I left.

I didn't look back, because looking back would have revealed an expression of painful, misplaced hope on 'Mom's' face. Hope that I was getting 'my' memory back, a false hope. What would never be.

* * *

><p>I found my way to the bus stop without too much trouble. Too much trouble being kidnapped, hit by a car, or accidently walking to the school itself.<p>

That being, I managed to get into the minor troubles of getting turned around (several times), getting lost (every time), and the vague suspicion that the entire city arrangement looked familiar. Which was impossible, because I was pretty sure that in my past life (don't think about it), I had never been here.

I still got there just in time. The bus pulled up, honking, yellow, and smelly, doors opening to let me in.

For a second, I looked at those open doors and honestly considered running 'home' to nix this entire idea of school. But the moment passed with a "Are you getting on or not?" from the very ugly bus driver (guy or girl? I couldn't tell). I sighed and got on.

Off to see the wizard. Yippee.

* * *

><p>After what seemed like a lifetime of having my face smashed against the windows, the bus stopped and opened up again, this time to let its unruly passengers off.<p>

I could have sworn, getting out, that the vehicle shuddered in relief. Probably just my imagination, though.

Looking up at the school building, the entire place looked familiar. But more familiar than before, in a kind of 'jumping up and down in my skull, screaming, 'You know this place, you idiot!'' way.

"I really don't know this place." I said out loud in attempts to calm my frazzled brain down. The organ didn't cooperate (surprise, surprise). Instead it just screamed louder (mentally, of course).

"Jenny?" A vaguely familiar voice, or more than vaguely. It sounded puzzled for some reason. I turned around to see just exactly who this confused person was. Wouldn't hurt to identify some of 'Jenny's' friends, since I was 'Jenny' now.

In turning around, I nearly ran into whoever was right behind me. Yelping, they jumped back a bit. "Be careful where you're going!"

I didn't apologize. To apologize would have meant having a reasonably working mind, one not currently in shock. Still not sure of what I was seeing, I shook my head and tried again.

Yep. Still there. Three kids, a Goth girl with purple eyes, black boy with red hat-thing, and the one I had almost run into, a black-haired guy with brilliant blue eyes.

_I can't be in Danny Phantom. I can't. _Such was the loop my thoughts ran. I couldn't be in one my favorite cartoons, because that would be crazy. Not to mention high degree of Mary-Sue material.

"Danny, I think you broke her." Tucker, of course. Danny yelped. "What? But I didn't do anything!" "Of course you didn't. Let me handle this." Tucker stuck out a hand. "Hello, the name's Tucker. Tucker Foley. That's T.F. As in 'too fine'." He smiled, attempting to look a little cooler.

Yep. This probably isn't a dream because my dreams never involve cartoon characters trying hit on me. "She already knows who you are, Tucker. We've gone to the last couple of years of school together," Sam said, exasperated.

I interrupted. "Uh, no, I don't, actually. Know you, I mean." Sam turned towards me, purple eyes staring into my soul. 'What you do mean?"

"Brain damage," I explained. "From my accident. It's likely I'll never remember being Jenny before the accident."

The three stared at me. Tucker was the first to speak. "Wow. That's gotta hurt." "Tucker!" From the way Tucker suddenly went "Ouch!" and rubbed his side, I guessed that Sam had hit him as well as yelled at him. Either that, or Danny.

But I doubted it was Danny, from the way he looked. He looked like I had killed his puppy or something else similarly evil. "Uh, are you ok?"

I nearly jumped out my skin when both Tucker and Sam glared at me. Or really, Sam glared at me with the eyes of doom. Tucker just kind of looked at me weirdly. "Nothing you need to know about. Come on." And with that, she grabbed both Danny's and Tucker's arms, dragging them away.

And with her, left my last remaining grip on sanity. I stared after her.

_What the heck am I going to do now? _


	2. Welcome to your Reality II

Wake up in a fandom? Check. Have no idea what season said fandom's in and by extension, no idea of what I could mess up? Check. Most worryingly, possible impeding Mary Sue-dom? Double check.

I was so screwed...I didn't know what to do. Except one thing. I looked down at my schedule. Time to go to class.

Lancer? The universe hated me. So very, very much.

* * *

><p>I made it to class barely on time. I was the last there, surprisingly. But I could guess that I wouldn't be last, because normally Danny was last (mixture of ghost fighting and lack of sleep. Not that most of the characters knew that). But I had met Danny with his friends at school this morning. Weird.<p>

I wasn't complaining, since my timely meeting with them _had _prevented my embarrassment in front of the entire class by realizing I was in the Phandom (heh. Puns...). But the situation slightly worried me. _Everyone _knew that when the main character/superhero of any fandom had it easy for a little bit, things were bound to come pounding down even worse later. My personal name for it was "The Law of Comic Reality", or by extension, it was "Murphy's Law". _Life is never easy for the hero. When it is, they're going to be in double trouble later. Or royally screwed. _

Rather unfair, now that I had an actual, real-life person to go with the name 'Danny Fenton'. One that now had his head down on his desk and... was he snoring? Lancer showed up about then, smacking the desk in front of Danny. "Fenton!"

A split second flat, Danny was up and moving. "What?!" He yelped as he leaped up, almost whacking Lancer's face in the process. "Pride and Prejudice!" Lancer barely avoided the hit. A period of shocked silence occurred, in which Danny looked around sheepishly, having realized what he had done. Sam just about face-palmed. Tucker almost laughed, but thought better of it when Sam glared at him. Everyone else just looked at Danny funny. Me? I dug my face into my arms, trying not to react.

Heroic reflexes? Check. This year was going to be _so _fun.

Lancer brushed off his shirt and turned back to the rest of the class, obviously pretending the 'Fenton attack' had never happened. "Now, everyone, we have a returning student. Jenny Barnes."

Everyone turned to look at me. A blond jock, or Dash, snorted. "We already know her." A unsaid 'duh' attached itself to the end. "Yes, but she does not know you. Her accident has left her with amnesia, Mr. Baxter." Lancer said coldly. "Oh, it has? I hope that never happens to me. That would be horrible." Slightly accented English from a preppy looking girl? Pauline, of course.

Introductions went well. Sorta. And I just shrunk back in my seat with every look of sympathy/pity that came my way, until eventually they stopped coming at all. Class went on, and despite the extraordinary circumstances, I found to be just as boring as any other English class I had ever taken.

Life went on.

Kinda. For everyone else.

For me, this entire mess had just begun.

* * *

><p>For such a ghost-attack ridden cartoon, the day went surprisingly smooth. Of course, I realized that not every day was going to be a ghost invasion. Such went along for the purposes of a TV show, action every possible moment.<p>

But no ghosts at all? Really? I had been under the impression that though huge ghost planned attacks weren't common, smaller raids made by ghosts like the Box Ghost (Beware!) took place every day. And yes, I was aware that I was viewing this all from a fan's point of view, a fan who wouldn't be in the middle of this in real life.

But could you blame me? To really, truly take everything seriously at this point in time would shatter what was left of my reality. To accept I was in a cartoon, honestly, no jokes about Mary-Sues or anything else, would take more than I had at the moment.

Right now I was struggling in a new body that was in no way mine. Right now I had a family who had no idea what was wrong and no host memories to fix that. Right now I was in a potentially dangerous situation, merely by living in _Amity Park. Amity freakin' Park, _I kidded you not.

Everything went back to the entire cartoon situation. I needed a game plan. Right now.

I raised my hand. Lancer lifted an eyebrow from where he was in a science lecture (yes, the man really did run almost every class. Scary). "Yes, Miss Barnes?" "I need to go to the bathroom." I blurted out, almost choking on the words as they spurted out. I looked down at my desk, waiting for my answer.

No response. Carefully, I peeked up at Lancer. "Interesting. It's been a long time since anyone other than Danny has asked to go to the bathroom." Said teen blushed as everyone else laughed. "All right, you can go then."

I ran from the classroom before he could change his mind. A couple wrong turns passed by before I finally made it to the bathroom. No one else was in there. Only me.

Perfect.

* * *

><p>"Ok, you got to get yourself together here," I sternly told my reflection. "First, come up with a good nickname. No Jenny, Jen, Jenna. None of the above. Second..." I thought about it, shrugging as I went forward with saying the truth out loud. "Second, tell no one. Nothing about the future, nothing about what you know right now, nothing about nobody."<p>

Not telling anyone about this was a good idea for several reasons. First, telling Team Phantom had its flaws, despite that's exactly what every OC did in fanfic (Did that mean I was one now? An OC? I really shouldn't be thinking about this). I didn't know if Jazz was in it or not at the moment, they most likely wouldn't believe me unless I gave further info, and Clockwork might get involved. Since said Ghost of Time hadn't shown up at all, such made me believe I was flying under his radar at the moment. Things always got more complicated with Clockwork involved, things like evil future versions of people. Best not to get him involved, then.

Second, telling a ghost. That idea was wrong on so many levels. This was no kids' show now. Getting close enough to even see a ghost could get me killed. For all I knew, it already had come close, with no memories of whatever accident Jenny was in.

Third, finding and telling Clockwork. This situation had already been brought up in the Team Phantom idea, and was a bad idea. Not to mention I had no idea how I would get into the Ghost Zone. Not that I wanted to go to the Ghost Zone.

"Last, don't get into ghost fights. That would be bad." I stood there in silence, mentally wincing every time I looked at the face that was not mine in the mirror. There was nothing more to add. As long as I kept my head down, acting like every other student, I wouldn't get into trouble or interfere with canon.

...How come I had a feeling that it wouldn't be that easy?

Oh yeah, Murphy's Law. That's what made me feel uneasy about this entire situation. Probably for a good reason too, but I took my luck where I could get it.

* * *

><p>Lunchtime. What a wonderful time of day. I poked the weird lump on my plate. What had possessed me (or, rather, <em>overshadowed <em>me) to get school lunch? The green blob looked like Jell-O, but since this _was_ Amity Park, it could have been a ectoplasmic sandwich. Or something along those lines.

Either one, still gross.

I sat down at a far off table, alone and by myself. It was far enough that I could keep an eye on everyone else in the cafeteria, especially Team Phantom.

Yes, I kinda was a stalker, watching them during lunch. I don't think any fangirl (well, reasonably intelligent ones) would have done any differently. Danny seemed particularly edgy, looking up at the ceiling every few seconds as if he expected a ghost to suddenly appear there. I wasn't the only one put off by this lack in ghost activity, it seemed.

Even as I watched, Sam put a hand on Danny's arm, saying something I couldn't catch from across the room. Whatever it was, it calmed Danny down, enough for him to look sheepish. Looking sheepish, though I had never thought about that state of mind much, appeared to be a natural state for Danny, not that I didn't already know that. Tucker shoveled down meatloaf like there was no tomorrow. Everything looked normal (for the cartoon). Except for the no ghost part.

Without warning, I found myself meeting a pair of purple eyes. Sam. She glared at me, clearly both asking why am I watching them and warning me to back off. I didn't react. Well, I did, actually. A slow smile crept onto my face. Part of the smile was mad at myself for being so stupid, getting caught as an almost-stalker. The rest of it? Quite honestly, just to mess with Sam.

Getting trapped in a fantasy world was no excuse not to have fun.

And mess with her, it did. Sam blinked in surprise, for a moment, before her gaze re-hardened into a glare before snapping away back to her friends.

I cackled to myself mentally. _I win this round, Goth._ If this interaction between the two of us was any sign of the future to come, we wouldn't be great friends. And by extension, neither would there be a great friendship with either Danny or Tucker. Some part of my fangirl heart panged at the thought, before I pushed it away.

Some things had to be sacrificed for the Greater Good. Or the Greater Canon.

...That didn't mean I had to like it. Grr.

* * *

><p>CWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW<p>

* * *

><p>"What is wrong with that girl?" Sam mused out loud. Tucker looked up from his meatloaf. "Wrong with who?" "You know, Jenny." "And why do you care?" Danny asked, finally entering the conversation himself, though still looking up at the ceiling.<p>

Sam went silent, since she knew what she was about to say next would sound silly. "So?" Tucker prompted, waiting for her answer. The Goth reluctantly spoke. "...She smiled when I glared at her."

Now, that response the two weren't expecting. Tucker spat out his mouthful of food onto the table. Danny's eyes instantly flew to Sam's face.

No one smiled in the face of the Glare of Doom. No one.

"That's pretty scary." Tucker, of course. "It's another sign that the Apocalypse is coming. Like how Lancer didn't assign any homework today." "Or the ghosts that aren't showing up." Danny added, eying the ceiling once more. Sam sighed. "Danny, why are you so worried about this? I would've thought you would like this peace and quiet, seeing how you always complain about fighting ghosts all the time."

"Yeah, but...when it's quiet like this, it means they're plotting something." Danny then realized what he had just said, fighting the urge to whack his head against the table for it. Tucker did too, saying something about it. "Ah, Danny? I think you're sounding a little paranoid here." "Fine, I'll take a break." Danny shot one last glare at the ceiling before turning to change the topic.

* * *

><p>CWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW<p>

* * *

><p>Hey, what was that? The CWs, the extra scene that I NEVER KNEW ABOUT? Stop messing with my stuff, MY stuff. You hear me?<p>

_You needed something else to flesh the story out. I merely provided it. _

Yeah, like I need _you_ butting in on something else about me. Is privacy now a thing of the past, hmm?

_Privacy was never a 'thing' of the past, Jenny. Nor of the future, or now. I have seen enough to know that._

What...? Oh, Master of Time thingie. That must be embarrassing, when you talk to people from the actual time stream.

_I don't bring it up and my visitors don't ever think to ask, since it's usually an end-of-their-world type of situation when they meet with me. _

Hey, it's kinda been an end-of-my-world situation for quite awhile now. As this story suggests. So, I'm asking.

_..._

No?

_..._

Ok, well, back to my story-telling.

* * *

><p>Lunchtime ended rather decently. No food fights, no ghost attacks, and no more glaring from the Team Phantom side of the cafeteria. Only two more classes left to go to.<p>

Praise the heavens, I couldn't take much more of this.

It was just the little things that got me, not the fact I was in a cartoon. How I was now a freshman again, instead the junior I had been in my world. Relearning facts I mastered two years ago, now that sucked.

It wasn't 2014 anymore. Writing down the date, I kept on having to scratch out '14' and replace it with '09'. Same with my name. I couldn't quite remember my own for some reason, but whenever I didn't think about it too hard, my hand twitched and scribbled some mishmash of letters. Not 'Jenny', that now being my name.

Jenny. I really didn't like that name for some reason. It just rubbed me the wrong way.

Back to the list of getting a nickname. Not Jen, or Jenna, but a _cool _name. I scribbled down random names in a spare notebook, being finished with my math work before everyone else (junior, remember?).

And with that, the bell rang. Hooray! School had ended. I ran out of the class, the first one to leave. Also the first one to run into...but I can't ruin the surprise. You'll find out soon enough.


	3. Welcome to your Reality III

"Beware!" Three guesses which ghost that was, and the first two don't count. Yep, that's right, the Box Ghost.

Blue floating man in overalls. And floating boxes. Shoe-boxes, hat-boxes, cardboard boxes...was that a Happy Meal? Sadly, I did not live up to the standards of character bravery in the face of ghosts (unless one counts Paulina or Dash).

I freaked out. I froze, instead of running away for my life. Pretty sure my face was pale, though. Ghost pale.

The Box Ghost might be dense but he noticed my fear quite easily. "Aha!" He crowed. "Fear me, for I am the Box Ghost!" That ridiculous statement, along with the fact I was _afraid _of one of the lamest ghosts in the show, got me back to my senses. I backed up quickly. He, the stubborn ghost he is, followed me, boxes trailing behind. "Beware! I have power over-"

A new echo-y voice cut in. "Yeah, yeah. We all know. You're the Box Ghost, power over boxes, yadda yadda." With that, Amity Park's famous hero and star of a cartoon in an alternate dimension, floated into my sight.

Brilliant white hair, stubborn green eyes, glowing. As what tends to happen in bad situations, once the shock wore off (mostly), I asked a stupid question. "You wouldn't happen to be Danny Phantom, would you?" Phantom gave me a _look. _A 'what-do-you-think-idiot' look, not that I could blame him. But he looked me over again, look changing to one of pity and regret, realizing who I was. Jenny the amnesia kid.

"Don't be sorry for me, you idiot!" I snapped out, before I could check my mouth. "Fight!" Just about then, a lunchbox slammed into Phantom's face. Staring at it, I noted it was a Danny Phantom lunchbox, DP symbol huge on the side. Oh, the irony.

The Box Ghost did a victory dance overhead while Phantom shook his head, presumably shaking off the effects of a surprise attack in the face. Then he made his own counterattack, tackling the still-cackling (was that what the Box Ghost doing? it seemed more like a seizure) ghost mid-air. Leaving me alone on the ground. I couldn't help it after that. I laughed. Doubling over and holding my gut, I laughed so hard. A large part of that laughter was hysteria, I know, but it didn't stop, even with me realizing that.

I should have been fleeing for my life away from the battlefield above me. I laughed instead. Yeah, I'm kinda stupid sometimes, I realize. I can make up excuses to defend myself, but I know you won't want to read them, so I won't.

I'll tell you about the box that conked on top of my head instead, then. "Ow! What was that for?!" The box happened to be the same lunchbox that attacked Phantom earlier. I, like a fool, paused to pick up the box and _then _ran for it. Holding the box over my head to protect against any further projectiles. "Run! Run!" I chanted to myself.

I didn't get very far before the Box Ghost noticed that a human was running away with one of his beloved boxes. "No one escapes the Box Ghost!" "Shoot..." I made the only decision I could in that situation. I looked at the lunchbox and threw it. "Eat peanut butter, ghost!" My arm didn't fail me, for once. It hit the Box Ghost quite nicely. "Owww!" He wailed, clutching his face.

The box flopped to the ground where it popped open upon impact. I peered into it, examining the contents (what? I was hungry!). "Huh. What'd you know, there really was peanut butter." My victim still groaned in pain overhead, but I guessed that was more from a human taking him by surprise than actual pain. I needed to get out of here before he recovered.

That's when it started falling apart, even more than before. Screeching tires, flashing lights...I didn't think. I just ran.

Ran and never looked back. Despite my burning curiosity, I didn't look back. Not this time.

* * *

><p>CWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW<p>

* * *

><p>Danny sighed. Great, now his parents had to show up?<p>

A strange enough day today, with amnesia Jenny acting strangely and no ghosts showing up. And when a ghost did appear...it was around Jenny. Call him paranoid, but that seemed awfully suspicious. Of course, said ghost was the Box Ghost...maybe it didn't mean anything.

And Sam would eat steak.

"Stop where you are, ghost!" But until he could figure out exactly what was going here, Danny had to escape his parents. "Hey, Mo-Maddie! Mind putting the Fenton Fisher down?" A couple Ecto-shots flew at him in response, and he quickly dodged. "Never would have figured out that would be their answer," He muttered under his breath as the halfa beat a hasty retreat into the sky.

* * *

><p>CWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW<p>

* * *

><p>A couple blocks away, my legs gave up on me. I stumbled awkwardly to a stop, nearly tripping over my feet. Fire in my lungs, in my muscles. But they weren't mine. Too easy to forget yet the easiest to remember. That ease (of remembering, of recall) lessened with time.<p>

I knew, one day, some day, I would forget where I came from, that I was anything other than Jenny. Attribute it all to some horrible dream. I knew it and it frightened me more than any ghost could.

For crying out loud, I didn't even know my own name anymore. My real name, before I woke up as Jenny. How far-fetched was it to think that I would eventually lose all of those memories of a past life, a past world. Or future world, if one wants to be technical on the time-travel/time-change on me. But right now, I recalled my friends and their appearances, dislikes and likes. My family, hate and love, and what Mom appeared like after a particularly hard night at work. Like how I felt after school here in DPverse.

As for what I had looked like, that was easy, I looked just like...just like... My hand paused before I touched my own (Jenny's own) cheek. What did I look like? The mental picture that kept popping up was of Jenny's face, but that wasn't right, I didn't look like a Jenny clone before...did I?

I concentrated, forehead furrowed in deep thought. Green eyes...I remembered those. Green eyes that neither my Mom nor my Dad had. Or any family members still living or dead. Where did green eyes come from? No, I couldn't have had green eyes. But where did the green come from, bright in my memory? (Or rather, the fading glimpses of one.)

Green...my favorite color. It reminded of ectoplasm, Danny Phantom's eyes, and the park around me. I had run so far that I was on the other edge of the park now. A park, in Amity Park? That seemed funny for some reason. Maybe I was just delirious.

Everything felt _wrong. _Again. Like how I woke up that morning. An itching down my spine. The air as thick as syrup. Hard to breath. A couple of deep breaths, though, and the feeling went away. Everything was normal again, yet not.

My foot took a step forward and...didn't hit ground. Not correctly, a slight twist at the ankle. I tripped, landing heavily on my face. What was wrong with me? Oh, well, _everything. _

I got up, sighing, to retry this walking thing. I needed to get home. Or, Jenny needed to get home. I was just a nice side-passenger for it. Walking 'home', I vaguely wondered about Danny, but then shrugged. _Ah, I'm sure he'll be fine._

* * *

><p><em>I was unaware that you had shown symptoms so early in your appearance.<br>_

Whoa, the Time Ghost doesn't know something? I should get a prize for this.

_The...interesting circumstances about the time of your awakening demanded far more attention than watching a human teenager wake up not quite right. _

Still, the Observants could screw you over for this. Oh, wait, they already have, in sticking me here with you.

_For your idea that Danny had been just fine after your exit, I can show you the truth..._

* * *

><p>CWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW<p>

* * *

><p>Danny was <em>not<em> fine, thank you very much for asking.

Right after he escaped from his parents, Skulker _had_ to show up. And with some new net-thingie too. It took some creativity to get out of that one. So he gets home, hurting and practically dripping mud (don't ask), to his parents, who somehow got home before him, ready to talk to him about his recent grades.

Today was not going well.

The Box Ghost took longer than usual to catch because of Jenny's presence. Who had laughed for some reason. What was going on here? He didn't need another Dan...Danny shivered just thinking about it.

"Danny? Your friends are calling." "Thanks Jazz." He took the phone to talk to who ever happened to be calling him. "_Hey Danny, how you doing?" _The teen smiled. "Hey, Tucker." _"Want to come over for some gaming?" _"Count me in."

And that was all before the screaming started outside.

* * *

><p>CWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW<p>

* * *

><p>I got lost. What a shocker, isn't it? But somehow, in my path to go home, I turned myself around and was now in the vicinity of the Fenton House.<p>

"Whoa. No way to miss that." I stared up at the large dish that somehow hung off the side of the roof without toppling over. Being even this close to it made me nervous, like I was going to get crushed or something. I edged out of its shadow, carefully looking up here and then to check nothing had changed. That the dish wasn't ready to fall over. Yet, that is. No way it would stay up forever.

Distracted, I missed what should have obvious (or at least more obvious). To my regret and pain. A large orange lump rose out of the bushes, taking me by surprise. I leaped back. "Gah!" "Take this, ghost!" Jack Fenton's voice for sure, but ghost? I didn't move in time. No teenage girl can outrun a determined Jack Fenton. (Now I have a disturbing picture in my mind. Ugh.)

Green gooey ectoplasm splashed over me. I froze, for the second time that day. Green oozed down my body to the ground. A slight buzzing feeling...that slowly started to burn. I hissed, more out of surprise than pain, and scratched at my arm. Some of the ectoplasm peeled off as a result.

Underneath, red welts stared me in the face, looking similar to swollen blisters. Or slivers hiding under my skin. Even as I watched, they tore and dripped. Dripped blood. A scream escaped my mouth. Several screams. Everything _hurt. _

I faintly heard Jack's apologies in the background. Something about how I wasn't a ghost. I didn't care. Wasn't in the mood to. Was this a ghost's reaction to getting hit by a Fenton weapon? If so, I suddenly had a new sympathy for them. Ouch...a lot.

To make a long story short, I blacked out. Knowing nothing more.


End file.
